Doorman Diaries

August 12, 2012

Folks who are upset decide to sprint to Yelp.com and piss and moan about their "experience" at an establishment.

Anyway, I try and not even look at Yelp but a fellow employee pointed one out that named me in particular, so I felt compelled to set the record straight..because assholes like this should be called on their complete and utter bullshit.

This is "Jenni B."

She had her feelings hurt two months ago and wrote this review about a night she had at my place of employ:

"A bartender who works there is rude and lazy. He totally ruined this place for us. We were there when it hadn't even gotten busy yet and it still seemed difficult for him to get us just a beer in under 30 minutes. When we tried to get his attention he got upset at us like we were an inconvenience because he was busy talking to his friend. It took us FOREVER to try and close our tab. We finally grabbed a different bartender to close out our tab and when the rude guy didn't get as large of a tip as he expected he made some smart remarks to us. Really unprofessional. We tip well when we can actually get served.
I wanna say his name is Cory because that was the name on our receipt but that could have also been the other guy who finally closed the tab for us.
Either way, this place isn't that great to begin with. Especially with all of the other great places near it. To get an attitude from a bartender on top of it-- Safe to say we won't be back."

First, I'd like to address the fact that I definitely remember this situation. It was the night before Memorial Day (which is always a busy night for bars in the area), Jenni, her husband and two other people were in their group. They sat at the east end of the bar, near the third well.

Here is the crux of the situation: What I believe set Jenni and her crew into their sniveling fit was the fact that I made the choice to stop serving one of the women in their group. I wasn't lazy and I wasn't talking to a friend. It had nothing to do with them not getting drinks quick enough. It was because I didn't break the law and continue to serve someone who I felt was intoxicated. Now, seeing as how Jenni is the one that wrote the Yelp review, I'm gonna go out on a limb and say it was probably her.

It was pretty simple. She was intoxicated and the bar was packed. I didn't have the resources to keep an eye on her, and didn't feel comfortable serving her anymore alcohol. I told her husband quietly, so as not to embarrass her and continued serving the hundred plus other customers in the bar.

When they flagged me down to close their tabs, I agree, I forgot the first time around...so it probably took about ten minutes to close them out. It was busy, and it slipped my mind. So, in that aspect, yes, I made a mistake and didn't close out their check immediately. Absolutely my fault.

When I did get both checks back, I'm required to check for signatures on all credit card transactions, and I saw that both tabs were around $60...and one guy wrote in the tip line, "Wouldn't serve my wife anymore alcohol" and the other left $.50 I believe...not to mention another nice little note from Jenni stating I should learn about customer service and that I'm a horrible bartender.

Though, in hindsight, I should have just smiled and walked away, I told them if they didn't wanna tip, that's fine...but don't be insulting and put $.50 down with a whiny note about poor service. If I was that horrible..how did you rack up two $60 tabs? And if you were REALLY upset, why didn't you act like an adult and speak to me about it? Instead, you took the childish, passive-aggressive approach and left a note on the credit card receipt.

It's a bar. And it was on the eve of a huge drinking holiday, so it's busy. Just because Mommy and Daddy didn't hug you enough and you crave attention, it doesn't mean the rest of us give a shit less about your snotty disposition. When you grow up to be an adult and realize there are other people besides yourself, you might understand this concept.

June 5, 2012

As a sophisticated connoisseur of late night television, I’m consistently bombarded by commercials touting the latest gadget or toy that scream “must have”.

Most are fun and harmless and I have to make a concerted effort hide my credit card from myself or I’d end up with a roomful of Snuggies, pajama jeans, and Easy Feet shower scrubbers. Little knickknacks that might be a fun gift to give because you already know it’s worthless and silly when you bought it.

Then there’s the occasional product that somehow makes its way past legal and ethical filters and finds an audience whom aren’t skeptical or assign a critical thought process to a seemingly innocuous Internet purchase.

When I saw the infomercial for the iRenew energy balancing bracelet, I kind of giggled a little and figured it would only be a few weeks before their company would be pounded into the ground by the FCC and consumer protection groups before being forced to refund their profits back to their customers for shilling a blatantly fraudulent item.

And yet I still see plastic pitch man Art Edmonds in a much too tight polo shirt telling me that if you buy his gussied up rubber friendship bracelet, you’ll have renewed strength, flexibility, and oodles of energy. And it’s science. Buttloads of it. By buttloads, I mean none. No peer-reviewed scientific inquiry other than how gullible some people are and how badly they want to feel better despite the knowledge of how a placebo effect works.

They even have a medical doctor with a sound bite. How could they have all this evidence and convince a doctor to go along with their scam if it wasn’t a real magic bracelet that healed the sick and made you better looking? They even have professional athletes and celebrities who rave about the incredible qualities of their particular brand of plastic and rubber.

I’m sure it has nothing to do with getting paid.

Plus, seeing as how I was a baseball player in college, I know that we are the most superstitious collection of people I’ve ever seen. We’ve been known to rub pickle juice on our hands. Pickle juice. I had to tie my spikes a special way and approach the mound in a specific path so as not to anger the baseball gods. So maybe you can understand why a magic frequency bracelet isn’t a stretch for athletes.

I’m actually in the process of creating an item myself. To help heal and pursue a semblance of tranquility and overall happiness when it’s worn.

The BLLSHT (Balance, Light, Life, Sight, Health, Truckloadsofcash) necklace brought to you exclusively by Doorman Diaries Inc. It’s made from specially selected rocks and stones mined from various spiritual quarries in and around my backyard. They were measured and tested under the absolute strictest of procedures to ensure that the product you’re purchasing for $19.99 and two for $49.99 (plus $11.99 Shipping and Handling...by monks and psychic healers) is going to enrich your life and punch your checking account square in the nads.

March 28, 2012

So, the 99% and 1% shtick had its dime and half in the limelight. Fox and MSNBC have beat the shit out of the subject. I've really tried to care. Honestly, I have. But it necessitates choosing between stinky hippies or rich assholes.

But if applied correctly, and to the apropos situation, I feel those "US OR THEM" themes tend to gain purchase on the rest of us.

By this I mean my rant was honed sharp by serving the asshead customers on St Patty's day. Or St. Paddy's. Or whatever the fuck spelling you need to get you through the day.

Most of you understand that its a pointless holiday dreamt up by Diageo and Pernod Ricard ad execs (Hint: There never were snakes in Ireland). It's just a reason for asshole white folks to wear green and drink Jameson. Then puke green, bro-hug their buddies and end the night by quietly sobbing into a plate of carne asada fries.

Anyway, here's the tie in: 99% of you get it. By that I mean, you understand how to maintain and behave yourselves in a social setting. Some examples include: please and thank you, waiting patiently, having your means of payment and a general idea of what drinks you'd like me to make for you and offer a gratuity as if it wasn't a foreign concept.

I'd like to thank you. From the bottom of my dead, black heart, I thank you. You've obviously been raised by human beings with a thought towards courtesy and humanity and not by fecal-chucking Bonobos.

For the asshole 1%: I can't describe the things I think about you and your obviously devolved lineage when you saunter up to the bar. Usually while wearing a hoodie. Inside the bar. When it's not raining. Or cold outside.

(quick side rant: If you don't wanna tip, fine..don't. It happens and we understand that it's a part of the industry. We've all been broke. Shit happens. But don't lie and say you didn't know you were supposed to tip. Or make up some bullshit "poor service" excuse as to why you tipped $2 on $40. Then you look dumb AND fucking cheap. End rant)

Seriously, fuck you. You're an idiot.

Your entire existence just screams eugenics. When you call me "Chief", "Bro", "Dog", "Homey", or "My N****, I wanna pay a hobo to take a dump on your forehead. And just because you've heard of Lil' Wayne and know a black guy in the dorms...doesn't mean you can use the N word or any variation of it. It just means you're a soulless dipshit, with very thinly-veiled smatterings of racist Whisky Tango mixed in.

Oddly enough, these brainless slugs come in two genders.

The women are almost as bad as the dickheads who're trying to gain access to the $200 pair of jeans that Mommy and Daddy bought them for passing their Chem 202L class.

Here's a direct kernel of truth for you: You Are Not Pretty Enough to Be That Rude. Asking for a free drink because you flop out your gelatinous boob will guarantee a look of disgust and most likely a quick exit from the establishment.

Or just asking what's for free because you decided to spackle on a few paint-roller applied sessions of foundation and mascara will mean that you're A. Cheap and B. Won't be Tipping. Nothing is free. Asking for a free drink only guarantees you will not get one from me. Look up the terms, "self-control", "class" and "tact".

Here are two terms that will buy you heaping gobs of appreciation and understanding from any bartender or server: Please and Thank You. Simple as that. I will routinely buy a few drinks a night just because someone has used common courtesy and said please and thank you. Do I expect it? Fuck no. Most of these mouth-breathing misanthropes have no concept of "other people", so I've learned to set the bar very low.

But I also don't think my white ass belongs on a pedestal, with white lilies and golden coins of yore placed at my feet. It's a service job, and I'm there to make the customer happy. But I'm not a servant. That's where some of your 50 year-old bitter assholes and 25 year-old seventh-year seniors feel I belong...groveling and begging for your spare change.

Both are wrong.

So it boils down to common courtesy folks. I make my living and provide for my family by catering to your whims. But let's be honest, if you can't be a normal human being and get along with staff and customer alike, you'll be out the fucking door. Bro.